


campy halloween drabbles

by williamcarter



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, M/M, it probably doesn't make sense but, it's fun to write that's for sure, really just comedy and fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamcarter/pseuds/williamcarter
Summary: i am not very good at writing things longer than a few paragraphs (or anything at all really) so if you're expecting anything of any real substance. i am so incredibly sorry.this is a collection of short drabbles/oneshots centered mainly around maxwes. most of them will be based on an au my friend made where. well. they're monsters! wes is his zombie figurine and maxwell is his vampire skin. they are in love. they are stupid. they are fun to write about. that's all!
Relationships: Maxwell/Wes (Don't Starve)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	campy halloween drabbles

[ESTABLISHING SHOT OF INTIMIDATING, DARK CASTLE. CAMERA PANS UPWARDS. LIGHTNING STRIKES. A LOUD SHRIEK COMES FROM WITHIN.]

"Well, dear, you've done it again," Maxwell says, chewing on the human flesh contentedly. "This is quite the breakfast." He reaches for a napkin and dabs it against the corner of his lips, humming softly. "I suppose it wasn't technically you, and rather the chef, but there's nothing wrong with a little roleplay once in a while." Maxwell winks, but his lover continues to sit across him groaning and dead-eyed. Wes ignores the wink, opting instead to grab at more food, and failing miserably to reach it. Following the next logical course of action, he grasps at the wrist of the fully grown adult human man that is currently lying dead across their breakfast table and pulls hard, dragging the corpse towards him. Coincidentally, this also knocks over virtually everything else that was on the table. A goblet of blood spills onto the floor, staining the bright purple shag carpet.

"Was that strictly necessary, Wes? It's difficult to scrub blood out of carpet, you know." Maxwell chided. Wes does not respond, because he is a zombie, and also a mime, and when it comes to speaking in coherent sentences that is a very poor combination. It may have also been due to the fact that his mouth was currently full of human flesh and bone.

Wesley was never one for conversation, but Maxwell didn't quite mind. His own voice was enjoyable enough to listen to, after all, and that had absolutely nothing to do with the sleepless nights spent staring at the mirror and occasionally leaning in for a kiss. In fact, those nights did not exist, and there were not several lipstick marks left on the bathroom mirror, and if there were it would be none of your business, and why are we talking about this, again?

Maxwell clears his throat, flustered, and decides to finish his breakfast without another word. Calling a thrall over to clean his lover's spill, he prepares himself for the night. There's much to be done, after all, and there's no use crying over spilled blood. He stands up after finishing his meal and stretches out his hand, inviting his husband to the bedroom. They need to get dressed for the night, and Wesley's hand-eye coordination is... rather poor these days, what with the zombie thing. Most mornings, Maxwell dresses him.

* * *

After shaking Wes off of his arm for what he estimated to be the fifth time in an hour, Maxwell straightens his jabot and adjusts his collar. He loves Wesley, he truly does, but with jaws that lock like a dog's and an affinity for biting, the mime's a bit of a handful. It's quite the ordeal to have a man half your size attached to your arm the moment you displease him. Or the moment you do please him. Or the moment he's hungry. Or the moment he wants attention. You get the idea. 

Maxwell gently shakes Wes off for the sixth time and wipes the drool off of his sleeve. He preens at himself in the mirror, but pauses. Looking down at his lover, something inside of him softens. He tuts softly, caressing Wesley's face. Wes leans into the touch, smiling against the magician's hands. His heart swells, and he can't help but smile at the thought of the eternity he will spend with his little mime. His Wes. 

Wes grins at him, looking up at the taller man with adoration. He reaches up to hold Maxwell's hand gently as it makes it way down his cheek. Maxwell's hand finds itself on Wes's chin, tilting his face upwards. He smiles at Wes, bending his knees and leaning down to give the smaller man a kiss. He closes his eyes, puckers his lips, and leans in.

A moment later, Maxwell shrieks. Wes bit his finger.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think there will be much demand for this but would anyone like to read my destiel superhell maxwes fanfiction ? my friends have told me it is very well written for a destiel superhell maxwes fanfiction :-]
> 
> also tell me if you find any typos.... i edited this last minute at like 2 am !


End file.
